


i will weather your storms

by aliveanddrunkonsunlight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, JBWeek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 13:56:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20836607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliveanddrunkonsunlight/pseuds/aliveanddrunkonsunlight
Summary: Written for JB weekPrompt: freaky weather/new beginningsJaime cannot handle being teased by the sun, only to have it go away again. Brienne does not seem bothered by it. She rises in the night to put more wood on the fire and when she slips back under the furs with him, her hands are ice, and he wishes--not for the first time--he had both hands to warm hers.They have spoken about leaving, whispered plans in the dark, as he marks her body with his mouth, claiming ownership over something he never thought would be his.





	i will weather your storms

**Author's Note:**

> Pretend the end of 8x04 never happened. Enjoy!

He has survived his first winter. Spring struggles to return to the North. Cold winds still cut through his cloak in the morning, but by the afternoon the sun is shining and he is dragging Brienne outside to spar with him while the sun is briefly at its height. Then the mist sweeps in again, sometimes bringing rain, other times the sky spitting snow. 

Jaime cannot handle being teased by the sun, only to have it go away again. Brienne does not seem bothered by it. She rises in the night to put more wood on the fire and when she slips back under the furs with him, her hands are ice, and he wishes--not for the first time--he had both hands to warm hers. 

They have spoken about leaving, whispered plans in the dark, as he marks her body with his mouth, claiming ownership over something he never thought would be his. 

Now that the North is independent, Brienne feels her oath to Catelyn Stark is fulfilled, but Jaime can see the warmth in her eyes when she looks at the Lady of Winterfell, and he knows it will be difficult for her to abandon her duties. 

Sometimes she talks of returning to Tarth. Sometimes they speak of leaving Westeros altogether and starting a life somewhere new. 

When he complains about the inconsistencies of the weather, she only laughs and says he’s never spent time in the Stormlands. “The sky shifts as quickly as the tides,” she tells him, her voice full of affection and warmth. There is an ache in his chest when she speaks of her island, and he wonders if it might be his home one day too. 

His brother remains in King’s Landing, staying to help rebuild the city, advising and managing the purse strings best he can. He writes often, updates from the wreckage of the capitol, but mostly teasing missives about when his brother is going to wed the tall, handsome lady knight. 

_ Soon. _

They are sparring one morning, newly fallen snow shifting under their feet, Brienne’s brute force alternately making Jaime admire her prowess and causing a tightness in his breeches. She has nearly trapped Jaime up against a tree, when she drops her sword, her body sagging in defeat. “What’s wrong?” he asks immediately, stepping into her with worry creasing his forehead. 

She shakes her head, biting her lip. He sees the sweat on her brow and unties her jerkin, thinking maybe she has overheated, despite the snow. Her breathing is labored and she crouches, trying to catch her breath. “Did that help?” he asks, wanting to touch her, but wanting to give her space. “Brienne, you have to talk to me.” 

“I think...I think I’m going to be sick.” She releases her breakfast under an oak tree. He strokes her shoulder and runs his fingers through her hair, trying to soothe her.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. The knees of her breeches are soaked from where she knelt in the snow and she shivers as he helps her up after, wobbly on her feet. As they make their way back towards Winterfell, Brienne’s arm slung around his shoulders, he spots a crocus poking its head out of the snow. “Look,” he tells her. “There is hope ahead.” 

She smiles at him weakly. He makes her rest for the afternoon. Jaime tends to her, bringing broth and bread, and tells her stories. That night, he holds her as she falls asleep, stroking circles across her skin, her back pressed into his stomach. 

But Brienne is stubborn and the next morning, she dresses and returns to her duties. By lunchtime, Pod is dragging her back to their chamber, telling Jaime she got sick in the small council meeting. 

“You have to let yourself rest, my lady.” He tells her, pressing up on his toes to kiss her forehead. 

“Why do you call me that?” She asks grumpily. “You are the one who knighted me or did you forget?” 

Jaime raises his eyebrows at her. “So you would have me call you ser?” 

“That is my title, is it not?” 

“Even in our bed?” He asks, his voice a whisper. Brienne blushes and allows Jaime to undress her, tucking her into her favorite chair, furs in her lap, as he brings her tea and broth, anything she desires. 

A week passes with things much the same. When Jaime tells Lady Sansa of Brienne’s continued illness at dinner, she simply looks at him with her pretty blue eyes and simpering smile and says, “It sounds like Ser Brienne should see a maester.” 

A knot forms in his gut and when he looks up from his plate, his gaze connects with Pod, whose hand is frozen in mid-air, about to take a bite. The young man’s eyes are wide and Jaime hears his chair scrape across the floor before he even realizes what he’s doing. He’s nearly running back to his chambers. 

When he bursts through the door, Brienne startles, holding a hand over her chest. She is sitting up in bed, a large book in her lap. “_Jaime _, seven hells! What is it?”

“You may be-” he gasps, trying to catch his breath. “What if...your illness. Do you think-”

“I may be with child?” she says calmly. 

“You _ knew?_”

“I suspected. But it just as well could have been some other ailment.” 

“And you did not _ tell me_?” 

She sighs. “I was not certain. Am still not. And I did not know whether you would want-” 

He cuts her off with a kiss. “You did not know what? Whether I love you? Whether I want to be a father? Whether I want to have you as my wife?” She nods, her eyes worried, searching his face for an answer. “How could you doubt any of it? I love you. I have known it since I rode North. I was only waiting to ask you to wed because I was afraid you would say it was too soon.” 

There are tears in the corners of her eyes as she slides the book off her lap. Her hand skims along his jawline, and he hums contentedly under her touch. Her gaze lingers on his lips, until finally those blue eyes meet his, then she is pulling him into a fierce kiss. He nearly ends up in her lap. “You’re certain?” 

“I have never been as sure about anything in my life.” He does slip into her lap then, a laugh escaping her lips, as he wraps his arms around her. “_Gods, _I love you. I want to fight beside you, wake beside you, and stand beside you through whatever happens.” He takes her right hand in his left and raises it to his lips, kissing it. “I want to raise this child with you. As your lord husband. Will you have me, Ser Brienne?”

She is crying, but she nods, managing to choke out, “Yes, I will, Ser Jaime.” He can feel his own tears on his cheeks as he leans into her, capturing her lips in his, his good hand threading through her hair. “I love you,” she murmurs as they break apart, foreheads pressed together, noses touching, her breath warm against his cheek. 

They decide to return to Tarth. They will wed there, in front of family. It is important to Brienne to include her father, to have him meet Jaime, to be there for the birth of his first grandchild. Tyrion is happily making plans to escape his duties for his brother’s wedding. 

But Brienne considers the North her home, too. Sansa is nearly a sister to her and Pod practically a son to them both. 

Six of them stand in the godswood as the sun sets. Pod and Sansa are there, and Gilly, as Sam takes Brienne and Jaime through their vows. When Brienne had appeared at the edge of the wood, standing proudly between Sansa and Pod, Jaime felt his chin wobble, but he took a deep breath, trying to keep the tears at bay. He wanted to see her, wanted to remember her like this, this moment which is for them. The sunlight filtering in behind her brightens her hair, nearly creating a halo around her head. As they draw nearer, he can see the half moons and sunbursts of her sigil sewn into the trim of the blue cloak she wears. In a moment, he will wrap her in Lannister crimson, but he thinks it is fitting that she will wear both their houses’ colors. He knows he is supposed to wait to kiss her, but he cannot help it, when she arrives in front of him, nearly beaming, tears glistening in her eyes, he presses a sweet kiss to her cheek. “My lady,” he murmurs, taking her hand in his. 

“My lords, my ladies,” Sam starts, nodding at Pod and Sansa in turn. “We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Brienne of Tarth.” Jaime looks over at his beloved, remembering the smile on her face as he gave her what she had been waiting her whole life for. 

He has been waiting his whole life for her. 


End file.
